


Hocus Pocus

by lunarhold



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not really hurt, mostly comfort and fluff, witch!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarhold/pseuds/lunarhold
Summary: Levi wants to forget. Hange just wants to meet a witch. Both of them get their wishes, and other things on top of it. Magic certainly comes in all forms.
Relationships: Hange Zoë/Reader, Hange Zoë/You, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	1. Hocus

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this almost a year ago and posted it on tumblr. it was for halloween, and i finally got around to posting hange's half, so i figured i'd post them both here too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi wants to forget, and he gets what he wants, just not in the way he expects.

The frown on Levi’s face could deepened the longer her stored. Just when he thought Eren had led him on a wild goose chase, he found what he was looking for. 

The trek to this place was long and tiring and he had been expecting...more. What he found, though, was _ less _.

Some witch’s shop, he thought, eyeing the place with mild disdain. Instead of the scary, disheveled, abandoned-looking lair he thought it would be, it looked almost _ quaint _. The facade was bare, with a small porch leading to the front door and an herb garden to the side.

The only thing even remotely witchy were the cobwebs in the corners and the door knocker.

He quirked his eye at the garish rendition of the traditional witch-- before rapping his fingers around it. It fell back down to the wood with a resounding thunk, and a moment later the door opened.

Once again, any expectations he had were shattered when he laid eyes on you.

You looked positively _ normal _.

“Can I help you?” you asked, staring at the man. He had vivid grey eyes characterized by the total apathy etched across his face. He was remarkably handsome.

“My name is Levi. A friend of mine told me I could get a..._ potion _ made.”

The emphasis on the word gave you some indication into the type of customer this was going to be. No doubt he was going to be difficult and skeptical-- not anything new, to be sure, but tiring nonetheless.

“Well, that really depends on what you need,” you answered and opened the door wider to let him in. “My name is _____.”

“I need to forget,” he said as he took in the interior of your home. _ This _was a little more like he expected.

Shelves lined much of the wall space, over half containing jars of what he would assume to be various ingredients, while the other half was filled with books. A closer examination revealed a wide array of subjects, from witchcraft to women’s romance. From the ceiling hung numerous herbs, some still in pots, some hung up to dry. A large cauldron stood in the center of the room, a fire lit underneath and a soft pink liquid shimmering within.

You made your way past him while he gazed at his surroundings. It was a typical reaction for first time customers. They always expected spiders and rats and skeletons. It gave you some satisfaction when they saw how normal it was. 

You had to clear off a chair for him, then gestured at him to sit.

“What do you need to forget? Seen someone you shouldn’t have naked? I get that one a _ lot _,” you said, gathering up canisters and jars in your arms. It was fairly simple to make, and quick too.

“I need to forget someone.”

That gave you pause.

Not that it was an uncommon occurrence in itself, but the sheer fact that they asked always pained you. They thought forgetting was the way to go about dealing with their pain. There were innumerable reason why you hated that request, number one being that you _ couldn’t help. _

There _ was _no potion to make people forget something like that. 

Naked grandma? Fine. 

Death of a loved one? No go.

Not that you would want to make it for someone even if it _ did _, exist. It was an unhealthy way to cope.

But there was another way you liked to try on people.

It didn’t always work. Sometimes people just gave up halfway through, either because they saw through your ruse or because hey started coping better on their own. Whatever the case, you always did what you could to help, even if it wasn’t how they wanted it done.

Putting the gathered ingredients back on the shelf, you searched around towards the back and pulled out a dust covered jar. It was a clever deception considering you used the jar every day. But it tended to make the customer think it was the real deal.

“Are you sure?” you asked, giving him your deadliest stare. “It isn’t a quick process. It can take months to take effect, you know.”

The look he gave you said it all. He was committed to this route.

With a sigh, you carried the jar over to the stove and set it up to make a large pot of tea. Herbs were gathered from the ceiling in silence while Levi watched, two parts suspicious to one part curious.

“May I ask who you want to forget? It’s somewhat important to the process,” you said, mixing everything together. It was a bold faced lie, but it always made the tea-making process more legitimate.

Because that’s all it was. Tea.

He grunted but remained silent otherwise, drilling holes into your back with a glare. He was skeptical of this at best, and didn’t need you being noy about his business on top of it. Finally, he bit out, “A friend. He died.”

You nodded and mumbled something under your breath, causing him to prickle. He didn’t need your judgement, nor did he need your pity. But your eyes showed neither, and were curiously blank as you handed him his cup.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Drink, if you’re sure you want to forget.”

“You don’t approve?” he asked, though it was really more of a statement. You were trying to hide it, but he was well-accustomed to seeing through lies.

You shrugged and frowned at him. “It isn’t my choice to make.”

Which wasn’t totally true. Even if you really _ couldn’t _ help, you still made the choice to lie about it. Sometimes if blew up in your face, but it equally came to work out in everyone’s favor, and _ that _ was why you did it. Because sometimes it helped.

He hummed and sipped at his tea, alternately looking at the cauldron and staring at you. You appeared to be thinking of something, if the unpleasant frown on your otherwise pretty face was anything to go by. As fine as he was with the silence, he was entirely too curious about the pretty potion bubbling in the cauldron.

It was powder pink, emitting pink sparks for every popped bubble and it smelled faintly of baby powder. Never before had he considered the scent of baby powder to be pleasant, but here he was.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding ot the cauldron.  
You turned to follow his gaze and, when you found where it landed, you broke out into a soft grin. Walking over to it, you picked up your fancy stirring stick-- a large oak stick you had carved one day out of boredom-- and swirled it around in the potion. The action caused the light to reflect better, revealing tiny golden sparkled littering the liquid. The effect was quite pretty, and it was one of your favorite potions to make.   
“It’s a fertility potion. It’s always in high demand around now, so I make sure to keep it stocked,’ you said, staring at your reflection in the glittering surface.

“Does it work?” he asked. The curiosity had worn off and the skepticism was back. The idea that you were scamming people while they were trying to conceive was disgusting. While _ he _didn’t want kids, he knew how important it was to other people. If they were unable to conceive, and you were swindling them with pink lemonade, then you were the lowest of the low.

He was surprised to see you staring into the cauldron with a soft, dopey smile. If you _ were _tricking people, you sure didn’t act like it.

“I don’t know,” you said, looking up at him. He was staring at you with an unreadable look, but it certainly wasn’t as apathetic as it was before.

“Maybe it only works if they believe, maybe they just happen to conceive at the same time they take it. I like to believe it works. Then again, I’d be out of a job if I didn’t, huh?”

You laughed, and Levi took another drink to cover the odd warmth he felt at the sound. He found that that was the last of it and put the cup back down on the saucer before standing up.

“How often should I come back?” he asked, handing you a handful of bills, which you promptly turned down.

“Pay at the end,” you said, curling his fingers back over the bills. You couldn’t very well accept payment for _ tea _. “You can come back whenever you want, but not more than once a week for the potion.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, before he nodded.

You watched him from the front door until he disappeared in the dark.

\--

“So, how did you get into witchcraft?” Levi asked. He was thumbing through one of your books detailing the best time to pick certain herbs. He found it rather interesting that, depending on what you wanted to do with any given plant, you would have to collect it at different stages of growth. He wouldn’t have the patience.

“Oh, you know. The typical ‘my mother, her mother, _ her _ mother’,” you said as you watched him. He had severe circles under his eyes today, and he seemed unfocused. It was his fourth time coming and you hadn’t seen him so distracted before.

It was also the first time he had asked you anything even remotely personal. You got the distinct impression that he didn’t like to let people get close; usually he came in, drank his tea, and left with hardly a word. He certainly never said anything about himself.

“So, you’re just copying your family. How original,” he mocked. He slid the book back onto the shelf and picked up another. You had a lot of books on herbs.

You flinched at his sarcasm. When he put it like that… “Well, I guess. They didn’t _ force _ me into this. I could’ve done anything. But I always loved watching my mom and gram making potions and casting spells. I especially loved how much people appreciated what they did, and how happy they were when it worked for them. Honestly, I never _ wanted _ to do anything else…”

Levi jerked his head up to look at you and found you staring down into your cauldron again with that dopey smile. Today’s potion was lime green and smelled like spring, and it bathed your face in a soft yellow glow. His heart thumped a little harder in his chest the longer he stared at you, and when he didn’t respond to you, you looked up in a panic, a red flush creeping up your face.

“Oh no, I was rambling again. I always do that when I’m working,” you said, clapping your hands to your cheeks. Then your voice dropped until he could barely hear you. “Though there’s usually no one to hear me do it, so…”

You were ripped from your train of thought by an undignified snort. When you looked at Levi, he was staring into the book in his hands with an amused smirk. 

The blush came back ten fold. He must think I’m and idiot, you thought, and it felt like your heart dropped to your toes. That was the last thing you wanted.

Silence lapsed over the two of you and, when Levi looked up again, he found you stirring the potion with a frown. You looked upset, sad even, and lost deep in thought.

He was unsure of the sudden mood swing and stood staring at you, probably for longer than was strictly necessary, but he found he didn’t want to look away. He had started arriving at your home earlier and staying a touch later, using the time to wander around your little shop and examine everything in detail. He was curious about all of the ingredients and their uses, and you were always patient in your answers, even if you were in the middle of something. He found it calming here-- he found _ you _calming. You didn’t mindlessly prattle on about anything, you just let him be.

He soon realized he had been staring for _ far _too long and tore his gaze away, but you were so preoccupied with your own thoughts that you didn’t notice.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, already at the door.

You hummed in response before muttering a goodbye.

It wasn’t until after the door slammed that you realized what he had said.

Feeling abominably rude, but still a little downtrodden, you rushed to the door, but he had already disappeared into the darkness. You shut the door and leaned your back on it, staring around the room.

The space felt odd lately, like something was just _ off _. Your grandmother had always told you that your space reflected you. If you were happy, it was happy. If you weren’t, it wasn’t. It was the way of magic.

You didn’t feel unhappy. You just didn’t feel _ normal _. And you knew why. You weren’t stupid. But you didn't want to admit it just yet. Admitting it meant acknowledging it and acknowledging it meant dwelling on it and you definitely didn’t want to do that.

As you gazed blankly around your room, uncomfortable with your train of thought, Levi’s cup caught your eye. It was still sitting on the end table where he had set it after picking up one of your books, which was odd because he was always meticulous about rinsing it out.

Not that it really made a difference, given the artful clutter in the rest of the shop, but you appreciated the effort anyway.

When you picked the cup up to carry it to the sink, you paused and allowed a small smile to slip onto your face as you realized the cup was still full.

\--

Levi stood at your door, the knocker in one hand and a box in the other. He had realized not long after he left that it was likely _ he _ who had upset you. Although this was true, it was hardly a reason to make the ridiculous trip all the way out here to make up for it.

Yet, for some reason, there he was. At your door. With a box of tea. 

It was a moment before the door opened.

“Can I help y--? Oh, Levi,” you said, surprise evident. “You’re a few days early, you know?”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed, stretching out enough to become embarrassing. He just stood there, not looking at you.

“I mean, not that you aren’t welcome anytime…” you said, trailing off in confusion. You were happier than was probably normal that he was there, especially after your rude goodbye earlier that week, but the very fact that he _ was _ there was peculiar. He didn’t strike you as the overly social type.

He grunted in response, unwilling to admit his reasons.

There was another awkward pause, with neither of you quite looking at the other, until finally you came to your senses.

“Did you want to come in? I like my front porch and all but…” you said and opened the door wider to allow him entrance.

He sidled past and waited for you to latch the door before shoving the box into your hands. After, he proceeded to studiously examine the new potions lining your shelves.

“Ah, Darjeeling! It’s so hard for me to find these leaves. Thank you!” you said.

He watched you go to the kitchen with a small smile, secretly pleased that it had rendered such a pleasant response from you. Given that it was his favorite flavor of tea, it gave him satisfaction to know you liked it too.

“Here you go,” you said, handing him a steaming cup. “I don’t know what you like, so there’s honey, lemon, and milk.”

For yourself, you added lemon and hummed at the rich flavor. After a moment, you caught Levi’s eyes. He was wearing a small smirk, looking from you to the cup.

“What?” you asked, staring into your tea and wondering if he had put something in it. But he wouldn’t do that, would he?

Just as you were preparing to panic, he calmed you.

“Who puts lemon in perfectly good Darjeeling?” he asked before taking a sip of his own.

You paused to stare at him before taking a slow, deliberate drink.

“What can I say?” you asked. “I’m a heathen.”

“You’re a witch and you ruin good tea with lemon. I think heathen is an understatement.”

“I never knew you were such a _ snob _,” you said with mock indignance. You also were surprised at just how lighthearted he was being.

He had hardly even smiled in your presence before, let alone cracked a joke. Now here he was, bringing you tea and making fun of you.

And that _ smile _.

It was bad enough that you already thought him attractive, but he was just _ cute _when he smiled.

He chuckled at your outrage, swirling his tea around in his cup. He had only ever joked with Hange before, and even that wasn’t so light. Usually he was calling her out for something stupid she’d done. It was odd. He initially had come here looking to run away from his problems, and now he actually wanted to be here.

Your house was a cluttered mess, but it was clean and cozy and smelled like herbs and so did you as you walked by to get another cup of tea and when did he come to like that scent so much?

He shook his head like a dog with water in its ears at the track his thought train had taken.

“Levi?”

He snapped his head around to look at you. “Did you say something?”

You giggled and, somehow, it was all the more endearing to him.

“I asked if you wanted another cup of tea? And…” you glanced at the clock. It was nearing seven o’clock.

He jumped up from his seat, having completely lost track of time. “Sorry. Didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll get out of here.”

“Oh!” you said and, before you could stop to think, you wrapped your hand around his elbow. At your touch, you could almost _ feel _ the air shift around you as your heart began to beat against your ribs. “You can stay. If you want. I haven’t made dinner yet.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared down at where your hand was.

When you realized what had his attention, you wrenched it away, a furious blush overtaking your neck and face. “Sorry,” you murmured.

An awkward, at least on your part, silence fell. _ He _was too preoccupied with the feeling your hand had left on his skin and wrestling with the temptation to feel it again.

“That...sounds good,” he said at last.

Your heart, which had definitely sunk down to you toes in the interim, immediately shot up into your throat and a wide smile broke out across your face. “Great! Anything you want in particular?”

“Can you cook anything besides potions?” he asked, following the sway of your hips as you walked to the stove.

“Har. Har.”

\--

Levi realized, exactly two weeks later, how well and truly _ fucked _ he was when he left your house (for the third time that week) without even touching his tea.

He was more concerned with you, and it dawned on him at last just how common that, and his visits, had become. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell when the problem _ became _ a problem, just that it suddenly was. It started with your books, then it was only you.

His eyes sought you out of their own accord, and found you at the counter, preparing his tea for him, and smirked. He knew your little secret, had known it for some time: the tea was literally just tea.

When he first realized it, he was angry. You were lying to him about your products, which was exactly what he had said the first time he met you. But your heartfelt declaration of having never wanted to do anything else was nothing short of honest and, combined with your previous explanation about your potions, he found he couldn’t believe that you were a bad person.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from calling you out on it. After all, you _ did _ still lie, and even though it worked-- he hadn’t been dwelling on it since the second visit-- he still wanted to know why.

When you turned around to bring Levi his cup, you nearly froze.

He was wearing a lethal scowl, and it was aimed right at you.

You swallowed hard and hovered near your cauldron, unsure of what he was going to do. After a long minute of silence, you asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Just wondering why you’ve been lying about the potion,” he said, and gestured towards the tea cup. It wasn’t hard for him to keep a straight face as he watched your throat bob up and down, your mouth drawn into a thin line, but he could almost feel bad about being so mean to you.

“About…”” you asked slowly, but you already knew. You knew he would figure it out eventually, but you were hoping for a little more time. No doubt he would storm out now, and you would never see him again. The thought caused your hand to loosen its grip on the cup, the tea spilling out onto the floor followed closely by the porcelain shattering in the puddle. “_ Shit _.”

Levi made to get up, but you waved him away, just wanting to clean it up and put this behind you. The sooner he left, the sooner you could begin getting over him.

But Levi wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily. His hand locked around your wrist, stilling your movements, then pulled you up to your feet. “Forget about that. Why were you lying?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you answered. This was not how you wanted it to go. Others in the past had often turned angry, even violent, but none of them had mattered the way he did. “Because there _ is _ no potion to forget something like that. Most people don’t understand that, though, and get swindled or turn to other, less healthy ways to cope. If I can help even one person get through it, even by lying, well...I’ll do it.”

He was silent for several moments after that and you were too afraid to look at him in the interim, so you just stood there staring at your feet.

His hand was still loosely wrapped around your wrist, but it slid up your arm and to your chin, which he used to tilt your head up.

“That is exactly the kind of response I expected,” he said, and you were surprised to hear the anger from before was all but gone. Instead he just sounded scolding. “But do you know how dangerous it is to do that? Not everyone will be so nice about it.”

Relief flooded through you, drowning out his reprimand. “You aren’t mad?”

He paused to look at you, gleaning some satisfaction at the look on your face as you stared at him. It was a glowing happiness and, as he shook his head, it seemed to shine brighter.

Now that the fear of him hating you, of him leaving and never coming back, had abated, you could think a little more clearly. The vise around your heart began to loosen, and you asked, “How did you know?”

“Like I can’t recognize green tea?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve known since the first time I came here.” Your eyes grew as wide as saucers at his declaration, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

“But-- Really? And you came back?” you asked, astonishment clear as day in your voice.

“I liked your books.”

There was another moment of silence, this one far lighter than the previous one, then you busted out into laughter.

“You are such an _ ass _.”

\--

It was stupid. He _ knew _ it was stupid, but he also knew that you would enjoy it immensely. After his confession last week, you had made him promise to come back, regardless of the fact that he didn’t really need to.

Unbeknownst to you, however, he had no intentions of stopping his visits. The scent of herbs permeating your house, the ever present sound of the bubbling cauldron, _ you _\-- all of it had grown on him and he didn’t want it to end.

So, with the help of Hange, or, as he liked to call it, her nagging insistence, he had decided to confess his reason for continuously coming back.

“You make love potions, right?” he asked from his seat in one of your armchairs.

You were standing at the cauldron adding spices and herbs to your newest batch of potion. Already, it was a pale lilac color threatening to turn blue which, if you were reading the directions correctly, was not at all right. Pursing your lips, you flipped to the previous page of your book and re-read the directions.

“Oh, shoot. I forgot to add the butterfly wings,” you said and waved your hand over the cauldron. It emptied immediately and you began the process over.

Levi only watched in amusement as you ignored him in favor of your brewing. It wasn’t the first time and, if he had his way, it wouldn’t be the last. So he repeated his question, louder this time to ensure a response.

He felt almost guilty as he watched a plethora of emotions cross your face, starting with surprise and ending on something akin to hurt. Already he knew what you were thinking but it renewed his hope that this excessively stupid plan would work.

“Well...technically but it’s in the same vein as the forgetfulness potion. It doesn’t really work on people who aren't already in love,” you said, waving your hand in his direction. Your heart was thumping harshly against your rib cage, hope warring with anxiety in your head. Unable to focus on your potion any longer, you put the jar in your hands down and turned to face him. “Why?

The look in his eye was unreadable as he shrugged at you.

“There’s this person I wanted to give one too. How can you tell if it’s worked or not?” 

You turned from him and began moving jars aside on your shelves, looking for the elusive little bottle. Even though you felt like crying, could feel your eyes burning with the sensation, you were proud of how steady your voice sounded. “Well, generally, if the person already has feelings, nothing. But they’ll get kind of sick if they don’t. Nausea is most common. Kind of funny, if you ask me.” You located the bottle and turned around with it, and were startled to find him right behind you.

Before you could react, he snatched the bottle from your hand, turning it over in his own to examine it. Still pressed close enough to touch, he pinned you with a mischievous stare.

“How would _ you _react if I slipped some into your tea?” he asked in the most deadpan voice possible.

A fiery blush erupted from your neck up to your hairline and you choked quite unattractively before freezing.

He wasn’t serious, was he? Did he actually expect you to answer that?

Before you could get properly angry at him for his cruel teasing, a small, square glass vial was pressed into your palm, made warm in Levi’s hand. You wrapped your fingers around it and swallowed hard, thinking about the implications of his question.

“Why are you asking?” you asked thickly. You squeezed the vial in your hand in a reflexive response to your nerves, allowing your mind to focus on it instead of Levi.

This ended up backfiring as fingers crept across your skin, clasping loosely around your wrist, a silent plea to stay. 

“It’s important. I want to know.”

You tried to maintain eye contact, but between your nerves and the strength of his stare, you found you could only meet his eyes for a moment. “I don’t...I guess it…” You swallowed hard and steeled your nerves, but closed your eyes as you finally choked out, “It wouldn’t have any effect.”

There was a beat of silence, save only for your heavy breathing and the potion bubbling happily behind you.

I’m going to have to start over again, you thought absently, before a new sensation snatched it away.

Lips were pressed gently over yours, warm and dry and chapped but wonderful nonetheless.

Without missing a beat, your arm came around his side, gripping the back of his shirt in your fist and pressing yourself closer. This close, you could smell the mint of his aftershave and you found it suited him. 

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to your cheek, a huff of air racing down your neck a second later from a content sigh. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, squeezed gently.

In return, you applied pressure against his back, pulling yourself away from the bookshelf digging into your back. His lips passed featherlight across your cheek as he pulled back from you.

“So, does this mean I answered right?” you asked cheekily when he was free of your arms.

He scoffed at your question and refused to answer, turning instead to look into the cauldron. “I think it’s ruined.”

“Yeah,” you said, peering over his shoulder. “Who’s fault is that?”

From your position, you could see the corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk. “Smug bastard. You can help me try to make it _ again _.”

He shrugged in response, not at all unwilling to help. In fact, he had been considering learning anyway.

Watching you wander around your cluttered work space, a small flush still evident on your cheeks, he considered himself lucky that Eren had sent him to you. Without it, he would never have found out about his love for the smell of herbs or the sound of bubbling potions.

Or you.


	2. pocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hange wants to meet a witch, but thinks it's impossible, until Eren proves otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry halloween

Hange stood behind her desk, staring at Eren in disbelief. He had come in a few minutes earlier, chattering to Mikasa and Armin about a person he had met earlier that day who was supposedly a witch.

The naive boy actually believed them when they told him that, and now Hange was trying to tell him that real witches were so rare that they were thought to be extinct. As much as she would love to meet a real one, she couldn’t believe that Eren just  _ happened _ to meet one in the grocery store.

“Well,” Eren said, both aggravated and tired of the argument, “I got their address, if you’re so skeptical.” He passed off a sheet of paper to Hange with an address in neat handwriting.

She looked at it and tried to remember where the road was. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was outside of town in the woods.

Why wasn’t she surprised?

She tucked the square of paper away in her shirt pocket, resolving to pay a visit after work.

\--

It was late in the evening by the time Hange found the witch’s house. As she suspected, it was hidden in the woods from everyone. Had she not known to look, she would absolutely have missed it.

She had almost missed it anyway-- the house itself was set back in the woods, invisible from the road with only a mailbox and dirt path to show something was there.As she passed the adorable frog-shaped mailbox, she could have sworn it croaked at her. She turned to stare at it, then shook her head. She couldn’t deny that she wanted so bad for you to turn out to be real, but she just couldn’t get her hopes up.

The outside of your home was entirely nondescript and appeared to be just a normal home. Other than the ugly, pug-faced goblin door knocker and the fact that it was set far off in the woods, it could be just like any other.

Hange didn’t hesitate to knock, but avoided the use of the knocker. It was really quite ugly.

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door, a loud squeal followed by a curse, then it opened to reveal--

Not what she expected.

You looked positively normal. In fact, you were absolutely  _ adorable _ .

Hange found herself at a loss for words for a moment, something her fellow soldiers would never believe could happen, before regaining her senses.

“Hi, my name is Hange,” she said, extending her hand to you.

You stared at it cautiously before taking it. Your palm was warm and smooth against hers, but she noted a few callouses.

“_____. Can I help you?” you asked. You couldn’t remember giving your information to this woman, so how had she found you?

“I’m sorry to just show up, but one of my soldiers gave me your address this afternoon and I wanted to meet you for myself.”

All at once, you understood. She didn’t think you were real and wanted to prove it. It wasn’t all that surprising. There were so few of you anymore that most people didn’t believe you were a true witch.

Plus there were so many frauds running around, giving you a bad name, that you withheld the information from most. This morning you had confessed to a young man in the grocery store, following your intuition on the matter. Clearly, this is what was supposed to happen.

“Ah, right,” you said with a small smile. “Would you like to come in?”

“Please,” Hange said, and stepped inside. Whatever she expected to find, she didn’t get it.

The inside was far larger than the outside gave away. A large cauldron stood empty in the center of the room, with a table to the side that was cluttered with jars. A book was resting on an end table next to a high-backed armchair, along with a still steaming cup of tea.

“You interrupted me,” you said when you caught her staring at the table. “I was just reading a new recipe for bone regrowth. It’s proving rather complicated.

Hange merely nodded as she continued to assess the room. She could see why you needed so much room. Three of the four walls were covered in shelves, which were filled with books and jars, though she couldn’t tell what they contained. The fourth wall was dedicated to a large fireplace, complete with a small fire crackling away underneath another, smaller pot.

The whole place smelled strongly of smoke and something sweet, and she found herself at ease.

“Well, is it everything you expected?” you asked, and couldn’t keep the tease out of your voice.

She flushed in response and couldn’t look you in the eye. She was embarrassed that you had called her bluff so easily, but was beginning to believe you might be the real deal. In response, she shook her head. “It’s  _ more _ than I expected.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her. She was terribly cute as she looked around in wonder, but her eyes were constantly being drawn back to the cauldron. Deciding that, if she asked, you would have no problem giving her a lesson, you said, “Take a look around. Do you want some tea?”

“Please,” she said breathlessly and made a beeline to the jar-lined shelves. Those quickly lost her interest as a cup and saucer swayed of their own accord past her. Turning to watch, she caught sight of the wooden stick in your hand, followed by the smirk on your face. A gasp escaped her and she nearly ran across the room to you. “You’re a real witch! Teach me!”

You laughed. “Alright.”

\--

“So, I add--?” Hange held up a jar of powdered moss, poised to just dump it into the little cauldron.

It had been a week since she had first showed up, and now she was coming by almost every night after work. At first, you had made her do a lot of reading and only allowed her to watch you make potions.

Tonight was the first night you were allowing her to try making one herself.

It was a very simple one: a forgetfulness potion.   
“Hange,  _ no _ !” you said with a laugh, grabbing her wrist to prevent her from dumping the entire jar into the tiny cauldron. “Just a dash will do fine.”

She colored red, looking from her wrist to you to the cauldron. “Uh, sorry. Got a little excited.”   
That was an understatement, you decided. If you had learned anything at all from this last week, it was that Hange had an infinite amount of energy, which lead to some very entertaining results. The very next day after she showed up, she broke your broom attempting to make it fly.   
This was by far the funniest thing you had witnessed in a long time as the woman galloped around your living room on the broom, riding it like it was a hobby horse. She had apologized profusely, but you had reassured her, saying, “It’s only a broom,” with a pointed wink.

She had pouted a little after the fact, but it was quickly forgotten when you handed her a beginner’s potion guide.

Her whole face had lit up, similar to the way it was now, and you couldn’t help the small bubble of pleasure that settled in your stomach. It had been so long since anyone had taken an interest in your craft.

“Ah, so next is...frog...tongue?” she asked hesitantly, looking up to you. “Really?”

You stifled a giggle behind your hand at the disgust on her face. “That is absolutely not the worst thing you’ll ever handle when brewing. Unless you can’t handle it?”

She perked up at your challenge, her hands on her hips as she leaned in close to you. You caught a whiff of gun polish and lavender as she shook her head. “Where’s the jar?”

Pointing behind her at the shelf, you watched her determinedly march over. You couldn’t help but admire the way she carried herself, full of confidence and grace.

You winced as she tripped on her way over, smashing into the end table. The contents, a stack of books and your wand, crashed to the ground. She was quick to bounce back, her cheeks a brilliant red as she looked from you to the mess she had made.

It seemed to you that she did it a lot in your presence, and you wondered if she did it elsewhere too.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll clean it up!” she squealed, scrambling to pick up the books. Arms full, she reached out for your wand.

“Wait, Hange! Don’t--!” you exclaimed, but it was too late.

As soon as her hand wrapped around the slender stick, there was a loud crack and a bang. When Hange’s eyes opened, she immediately looked to you for your reaction.

She had taken notice almost from the beginning that she was far more prone to accidents when she was here. As much as she wanted to blame it on the magic, she knew it was a lie. She was surprised that, with the amount mishaps she had been having, you hadn’t kicked her butt to the curb. Not that she  _ wanted _ you to, but she was constantly expecting it.

And now, she had gone and done  _ this _ .

Standing in your place was a tiny, fluffy cat. It’s tail flicked back and forth in irritation, but it’s eyes were huge and full of amusement.

“Uh, I don’t guess sorry is gonna cover this one?” she said, staring at you in horror.

“Not even a little,” you said with a laugh.

“So what do I--? I mean,  _ is _ there anything--?” She was unable to complete her thought, but you could figure out that she was trying to ask.

“There’s a potion to speed it up, but it’s a bit complicated,” you said, cocking your head at her. “There’s a small problem, though.”

You were looking behind her, and she whirled around, realizing immediately what it was.

“Oh  _ no _ ,” she whispered. “How did that happen?”

The row of shelves was completely demolished, all of the jars smashed into pieces on the floor, their contents scattered among the shards.

You padded over to her and sat down next to her, allowing your tail to curl around her ankle. This wasn’t the first time you had been transformed into a cat, but it was usually voluntary. “The spell likely recoiled off the wall first and destroyed the shelves.”

“So there’s nothing I can do?” Hange asked, sounding downtrodden.

“Nope,” you said with a pop. “Well, you could clean up a li--” 

You were cut off mid-sentence, a cloud of smoke enveloping your tiny, furry body. When it cleared you were standing before Hange once more, looking no worse for wear.

“Oh, thank god,” Hange gushed, throwing her arms around you.

A flush rose up to your cheeks as her hands clenched the back of your shirt. A bit hesitant, you wrapped your arms around her back. Her response was to squeeze tighter, pulling a small smile to your lips.

Hange was glad her face was hidden from you as a fierce blush was covering the whole of it, but she was also wearing a fierce grin. It took a minute to get herself under control, then she pulled back. “Do you want help cleaning up?”

“Nah,” you said, and snatched your wand up. With a flick of your wrist, the shelves righted themselves. The jars, with a lot of clinking and grinding, glued themselves back together. You knew you would have to go through the contents of the jars later, to determine which ones could still be used. Some would need to be thrown out, but Hange felt bad as it was, and knowing she had ruined some of them would only make her feel worse.

“That is _ so awesome _ .”

Although, you thought as you felt her slam full force into you, maybe a bit more guilt couldn’t hurt.

The force with which she hit you sent you both backwards, right into the hot cauldron full of nearly complete potion.

What potion had that been again?

“Er, what’s your name again?”

Oh, right.

You sighed as you stood up, flicking your hands to rid them of liquid before picking up your wand. Thankfully, the effects were minor, since the potion was incomplete as well as the fact that it hadn’t been properly drunk.

“Oh, _____, right…” Hange said with a sheepish look. It slowly fell into annoyance. “I’m really making a fool of myself.”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you siphoned her dry with the wand.

Her shoulders slumped and she wouldn’t look you in the eye, but you took her hands in yours anyway. “You don’t have to be so nervous, Hange.”

“I’m not nervous!” she said, but her cheeks had turned red as soon as you said it.

“That’s not what Eren said,” you said in a sing-song, earning a groan.

“That little brat. I’m gonna tell Levi to make him run extra laps tomorrow.”   
You laughed and squeezed her hands, and she returned her focus to you. Or, more specifically, your soft, smooth hands wrapped around hers.

“_____?”

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

She received her answer in the most unexpected way: your warm lips pressed briefly against hers.

She was almost unable to process what had happened, she was so surprised. But when she did, she couldn’t help but grin. “So, is that a yes?”

“I would love to,” you said, but held up a finger. “On one condition?”

“And that would be?” she asked, but was pretty sure she already knew.

“Calm  _ down _ ,” you said, shaking her by the shoulders.

“Alright, alright!” she said as she laughed, struggling to break free. “So, can I try again?”

“Uh...maybe you better just stick to reading for a while.”

Her expression became a pout, her cheeks puffed out in a frown. “Please?”

She looked so adorable, you found yourself giving in. Oh no, you thought, it’s starting already.

“Oh, alright. But if you turn me into a cat again…”

It was a bad idea, but you couldn’t deny her enthusiasm.


End file.
